Catch Your Fall
by SunKing
Summary: The new girl is drawn inexplicably to the silent boy in her English class. This is Bella's side of Brave. REPOST.
1. Silence

I had never been "the new girl" before. I was glad I had to suffer through it with Charlie and not my mom. Mom would have wanted to talk about what clothes I would wear, what classes I would take, what boys would be in those classes. She'd never say it, or even admit it to herself, but I think she was a bit disappointed in me as a daughter. Sure, I made sure her clothes were clean, the bills were paid, and the dinner was cooked. I brought home fantastic grades on report cards that she barely glanced at before signing. Most moms would be proud, and Renee was proud. But she also wanted to dress me in sparkly pink things and gossip with me about Marcus, the guy from my Biology class who asked me out no less than three times my freshman year.

On top of being "the new girl," I entered Forks High in the middle of my junior year. These kids knew each other since Kindergarten, and I joined them with only a year and a half of school left. Not one student felt the need to befriend me, for they all had their cliques and bonds formed and had for years. I went through eleven and a half years of school with very few friends. I could certainly suffer the last few months of high school on my own; it would just be in a new location.

Dad left early, as he had every day since I'd arrived, and I was left to my own devices for about an hour. I admit I spent a little longer on my clothing choices than I normally would. I took an extra ten minutes to dry my hair as straight as I could possibly get it. I debated the merits of my heeled boots over my Converse, and decided trainers were the better choice if I was going to make it the whole day without a visit to the hospital. I wasn't likely to make friends on the first day, but to break a bone in front of them would just be mortifying.

My first class was surreal. A boy named Mike Newton—he told me his name at least four times—sat next to me and talked through the whole class. He was nice, and his willingness to befriend the new girl was unexpected. To be honest, it was a little uncomfortable. I've spent so much of my school time in silence that making conversation was really difficult. He wanted to know everything about me, from why I moved to Forks to what I had for breakfast that morning. I was never more relieved than when the bell rang and tried not to run for fear of breaking my leg and hurting Mike's feelings. Mostly out of fear that I might break my leg, though.

My second class was Lit, and I was really looking forward to seeing what our reading list would be. I had read everything on the list in Phoenix before I reached seventh grade, so I hoped Mr. Mason would have a more challenging syllabus. I managed to get into the classroom just before the bell rang. I should have hung around long enough to ask Mike Newton where I was going, but since I found it on my own, I didn't dwell on that thought.

Mr. Mason also didn't make me stand in front of the class and give my life story; he just pointed out a seat in the back of the room and handed me a syllabus. I shuffled through the desks, trying not to hit people in the face with my backpack, and plopped down into the empty chair. I glanced at the desk in the corner and saw a boy gripping his desk like it might fly away without him. His head hung low, and a beautiful mess of red-brown hair covered his face.

"Hi," I said, hoping he'd look up.

He took several deep breaths, but refused to lift his head.

"I'm Bella," I tried again.

Still, nothing. I turned my attention to the syllabus just as Mr. Mason began talking about the book they'd been reading before I joined the class. I was relieved to see it was one of my all-time favorites, so at least I wouldn't start the class at a disadvantage. I was poring over the outline when I felt his eyes on me. I turned my head and watched as he appraised me.

The shiny mass of hair should have prepared me, but, really, nothing could have. Startling green eyes were searching my face. They were set above the most beautiful cheekbones ever to grace a man's face. A strong jaw, pouty lips, and a ridiculously straight nose completed the masterpiece. This silent boy was the most beautiful human I had ever seen. Only I could move to the middle of nowhere and find perfection personified. The thought made me want to laugh.

He still hadn't said anything. He didn't look unfriendly; in fact, he looked very interested in me. I couldn't help but wonder why he didn't just open his mouth and say hi instead of staring like I might disappear at any moment. He groaned when Mr. Mason mentioned a partner project, and suddenly I wondered if he might be shy. Like, painfully shy, and not just quiet like me. His hands trembled, and I knew I was right. I quickly scribbled a note and tossed it onto his desk. He looked up at the ceiling as if the paper might have appeared out of midair, and it made me laugh.

When he passed the note back, telling me that writing was much easier for him than talking, I was thrilled I had guessed correctly. I asked if he'd be my partner for the project. Not only did I not want to sit like an idiot and wait for someone to take pity on me, I knew I could make it easy on him by not requiring him to talk. He tossed a note back, and I almost laughed out loud. The shy boy had a sense of humor, trying to convince me that he might be dyslexic or spell badly. As he had spelled dyslexic correctly, I knew neither was the case. I begged him once more to take pity on me and the most amazing thing happened. He looked me right in the eye, opened his mouth, and said, "Yes."

I thought I might pass out from the joy of hearing his voice for the first time. It was low and rich and caused my skin to break out into goosebumps. I thanked the heavens above I had on a sweater so that my reaction to his voice was not readily apparent to him.

I made my way to my next class in a daze. All I could think about were his eyes, his lips, his fingers as he wrote. I had signed up for French III, even though I'd been on an advanced track in Phoenix and would probably be well ahead of the other students. The only other option would have been Spanish I, and I didn't feel like starting over with a new language. Now that I had something to occupy my mind, I was relieved the class would be a review.

Being lost in thought was not in the cards, however. The only empty seat in the class was next to a short, dark-haired girl that literally vibrated in her seat. She was, quite possibly, the second most beautiful person I had ever seen. Her features, though tiny, were perfectly formed, and she resembled a china doll. What struck me was the color of her eyes. There was no way that green could belong to someone else, unless that someone else was part of the family. She was related to Edward in some way; of that I was sure.

"Je m'appelle Alice!" she said with a giggle.

I grinned in spite of myself.

"Comment t'appelle tu?" she continued.

"Bella."

"I knew it!" She kicked her legs in excitement. They were honestly too short for her feet to reach the floor.

I curled up in my seat and pulled out a notebook to take notes, but Alice was having none of that. She plucked my pencil from my grasp and tossed it over her shoulder, shrugging when she heard a mutter of protest from whomever it hit.

"Nothing new happens in Forks. Ever. I hate for you that everyone will be watching your every move, but I love for me that you've come. I won't make you tell me all about yourself. It's not fair to you, but most people know the whole story anyway. I will make you tell me your schedule, though, because I'd love to know if we have any more classes together."

Another squeal followed after I handed her my schedule. I watched her with my jaw unhinged as she danced in her seat.

"You've got Lit with Edward!" she said.

Mme. Hardin cleared her throat sternly, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. I got the feeling that no one denied Alice anything.

I nodded, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. "I sat by him," I offered. "We're going to work on our first project together."

"Oh, Bella! You'll be so good for him, I can tell. He's so smart and funny, and he's just so nice. But he doesn't have any friends except for Jasper and Rosalie. Well, and me and Emmett, of course, but we don't count because we're related. You'll meet them all at lunch if you sit with us. You will sit with us, right? Please don't think that there's anything wrong with my brother. He's just really shy, but he could really do with a good friend like you."

I reeled from Alice's words. She had complete faith in me, and I had no idea where it came from. There was a dreamy smile on her face as she continued to describe her friends. I could tell by the change in her voice that Jasper was special to her, but she was fiercely loyal to all of them. I had found the one person in the school who could very well be a friend. Not that silly high school kind of friend, where girls run off to the bathroom together to talk bad about their other "friends." Alice had a pure spirit, and I suspected her brothers and friends did, too.

I let Alice chatter in my ear. For the first time in my life, I found it interesting and comforting. There was no gossip or harsh words. Only love, excitement, and purity poured from her little bow lips as I dug around for a new pencil. My first pencil was a lost cause, because there was no way I'd face the person who'd "caught" it earlier. As Alice whispered lovely things about Edward, I decided to write him a note inviting him to start our project that afternoon.

Alice walked with me to our next class, which we also had together. She dragged me straight to the chair next to hers and proceeded to talk through the entire hour of Physics while I finished the note to Edward. I felt silly writing it, like I was in seventh grade or something. With a little smile, I added that to the note. My handwriting looked like I was drunk most of the time anyway, so cramming it in didn't affect the legibility. None of it was legible.

I dithered a bit—okay, a lot—about whether to give Edward my thoughts on paper. I decided I'd wait to see how he reacted at lunch. Thanks to Alice's warp speed, we arrived at the lunch table before anyone else. A tall, blond boy joined us almost immediately, and I could tell by the look on Alice's face that I was about to meet Jasper.

As I had suspected, Jasper was the third most beautiful person I'd ever met. Not just in appearance, but in deed. In direct contrast to Alice, Jasper was laid back and soft-spoken. I felt at ease in his presence and had no qualms about sharing some of my day with him. Just like Alice, he seemed interested in what I had to say, and his interest was wholly pure. He was not a gossip, and I was grateful that Edward had friends such as these. In any other dimension, these beautiful kids would be the meanest in school, secure in their looks and their power over others. In this Otherworld, where I was blessed to live, the perfect kids were my friends.

Alice danced again in her seat, and I knew Edward was approaching. It occurred to me he might not react well to a new person at the table, but Alice called out to him as if nothing was unusual. When he sat down next to me, my whole body came alive. The skin on my arm was singing, begging to touch him. Before I could do more than smile, we were joined by the famous Emmett and Rosalie.

In Rosalie, I saw Edward's fiercest protector. She wasn't rude, but she didn't accept until Edward did. And when I saw Edward did, I wanted to cry. Because he found some form of comfort with me, I was granted entrance to this most extraordinary of groups. Plain, lonely, quiet Bella Swan had been accepted within hours of her arrival at Forks High School. I owed it all to the silent boy at my side.

The rest of my day passed in a haze. I was not looking forward to my last class at all because it included some form of cruel and unusual torture. Gym class, but I suffered through, hoping that when I walked through the heavy double doors, Edward would be waiting for me. There was a distinct chance he wasn't ready, and I didn't want to push him. Oh, but I hoped. I rushed through my shower, tossed my hair into a quick bun, and hurried out of the locker room. I ignored the giggles of the other girls who had found my lack of coordination hugely entertaining. I did try, but that just made it all the more frustrating when I failed. Or fell.

My frown disappeared when I saw that Edward was waiting for me. Rosalie stood next to him, offering me a sweet smile, and I knew she'd decided he needed no protection from me. My eyes only stayed on her face long enough to register that before they moved to Edward. I couldn't help the way my gaze roamed over his face. Rosalie asked me a question about my frown, but my irritation with Gym class had long since been forgotten. Edward was smiling at me.

* * *

I was thoroughly mortified when my dad came home early. Not because I was embarrassed about Charlie, or about Edward for that matter, but because I had promised Edward he wouldn't have to suffer through meeting him. He took the whole thing well. Actually, Dad did, too. I imagine it's because Forks is a small town and Dad knows everything about everyone. Edward was probably the least imposing person I could have chosen to bring home. There was no need for awkward conversation, and Charlie let us walk right out of the house with no dad-like glares or warnings. I could tell having Edward over would be easy in the future. It was just a matter of showing him how non-threatening the Swan household truly was.

Having a police chief for a father could be a little frustrating. He'd bought me the truck, bless him, to spare me the first of many possible humiliations: riding around in the squad car. I knew most students wouldn't be thrilled to invite me along on their escapades for fear of Charlie's wrath. I was okay with not being included, but I really didn't relish the gossip and whispers that preceded the decision to exclude me. That was the main reason I cherished my quick ties to Edward and his friends. I did eventually find other people with whom I could be my true self.

Angela Weber and Ben Cheney were two of the nicest people I'd ever met, outside of the Cullens, Rosalie, and Jasper. Angela and I had Government together, just after lunch, and she would often stop by our lunch table to talk about the assignments that were due the next hour. At first, I worried that it might upset Edward, but Angela's sweet nature seemed to calm him almost as much as I did. Alice whispered to me in French class that she'd never seen Edward accept so many new people in such a short amount of time. I felt so honored to be one of the few.

Angela was the only person who had the guts to ask me what I was sure was written all over my face. Did I like Edward? And I did. So very much that it hurt sometimes. I thought he was perfect just as he was, but sometimes my mind would beg him to talk to me. Perhaps Alice and Rosalie refrained from asking because they knew it was a lost cause. I knew Edward was comfortable with me, but I had no idea if he felt more than intense friendship. Maybe Alice knew the answer to that and didn't want to encourage me into something doomed from the start. I was certain I liked him much more than he liked me, but I didn't know what I could do about that.

Edward sat across from me at the kitchen table as we finished up our paper for Lit class. It had been a pretty emotional piece for me, our paper on the parallels between Dill and Boo Radley. Their abject loneliness seemed personified in the beautiful boy in my kitchen. I felt as if, perhaps, I could right the wrongs against Boo Radley if I stood by Edward and gave him a friend of his own. This was not to take away from the love and support he received from his siblings and their respective loves, but he deserved someone who loved him just because of who he was.

And, just like Scout, I felt a thrill every time I received a note from my perfect friend. Each word was akin to a watch or penny found in the knothole. However he could, Edward wanted to show his appreciation for me, and I cherished every letter. Often, the scribbles were only about our class work, but sometimes he would surprise me with a silly line or a tender sentence. Just before we closed the notebook on last of our project, he offered up a particularly sweet missive.

_I find it easier to breathe when you're beside me._

He closed the book almost before I could finish reading and scraped his chair back. I could see the flush climbing his cheeks and knew he was embarrassed about opening up that much. I tried not to show my disappointment, but some must have been apparent. He gave me a sheepish smile and offered his hand.

That gesture alone was worth a hundred of the sentence he had barely let me see. He was asking for physical contact, and I thought my heart might burst. My next thought, after I took the offered hand, was that my skin might spontaneously combust.

* * *

There were no words for the beauty that was Edward's mother. I didn't know what I expected, since every person associated with Edward could have been a movie star. He got his unusual coloring from her, with her caramel curls and fair skin. I couldn't help but wonder if Dr. Cullen would be as devastating. I didn't have to wait long for my answer. In Edward's father, I saw the same stature and flashing green eyes. I was immediately smitten with the remainder of his family. There was a part of me that didn't feel as if I rightfully belonged among such perfection, but Esme and Carlisle, as they had insisted I call them, made me feel so at ease that I forgot almost immediately that I was the lower-middle-class daughter of the town's police chief. Laughing with his family, keeping up with Emmett's jokes and Rosalie's cheerful snarkiness, felt like _home _to me. I wanted to kiss the beautiful boy next to me into silliness for inviting me into his perfect world.

I knew from the deferential way his parents treated him that he was beyond special in their eyes. I could see it myself, of course, but having it laid out so plainly made it all the more real to me. He was silent, humble, unassuming, and broken. I knew that. I knew there was more to the quietude than just everyday timidity. The boy had something serious to overcome, and I immediately vowed I would join the fight. I would put his every need before mine until the day he could easily smile at me and say hello without trembling. For him, I would do anything.

And when I wasn't sure if it was possible to love him more, he meekly led me to the piano and caressed the keys with an aptitude that bespoke true greatness. He shifted closer to me so we would touch, and I felt my bones melt from just the briefest of contact. The silent boy spoke words beyond all understanding as he coaxed the notes from the beautiful piano, and I felt myself lost all over again. I loved him—fully, hopelessly.

Tears blinded me as I searched for a scrap of paper to share my thoughts. Could I tell him the depth of my feelings? It was too soon, I was sure. A tear dropped to the page as I scribbled carefully but quickly. He saw that I was about to communicate and allowed the notes to die. Their tender message still hung in the air, and I heard him. I turned, ready to just speak the words, but I was stopped by the fierce look in his eyes. As my breath caught in my throat, a sheepish grin on my face, he reached up and brushed away a tear that had escaped. I sighed, leaned into his palm, and let the note slip from my fingers.

It was too late. My words were there for him to consume. And he did, voraciously. I watched with baited breath as his eyes travelled over the words several times and tried to read his expression. He was so beautiful it hurt. Green eyes sought mine, and the tenderness and anguish broke my heart. I knew he felt I, too—this tie between us—but there was only silence.


	2. Stumble

I heard the muted sounds of the television as I plated steaks for dinner. He never told me what he wanted to eat, leaving me to guess at his favorites. I had to watch as he ate, judge how quickly he consumed it and how happy he appeared when doing so, to know that steak and baked potatoes were his favorite. No matter how long I spent on fancy meals for him, a good pan-fried steak won every time. It was the same with his sports, actually. I knew basketball was his favorite because he would slide up to the edge of his chair, clench his fingers around his beer, and _wriggle _in his seat when the Sonics scored. He liked football and baseball and even hockey just fine, but basketball made him nearly cheer. Nearly. The fact of the matter was that my father was almost as quiet as Edward. I had begun to take silent clues years ago during my vacations with him in California. The root of the silence was different, but it was silence nonetheless.

"Dinner, Dad!" I called. After listening for a moment, I heard no shift from the easy chair. With a grin, I picked up his plate and a new beer and carried it to him. "Must be a good game for you to leave a steak waiting," I teased.

"Thanks, Bells. Foul shot." He reached behind him for a TV tray and set it up without taking his eyes from the screen.

I bit my lip to hide my laughter and set the beer down first so that I could manage his silverware.

"You should ask Edward to stay for dinner sometime," he said suddenly, startling me so badly that I almost dropped his plate.

Fathers never liked their daughter's love interest, did they? Not that I had given any hint to anyone at all that I was falling madly in love with my Lit partner. No one but Angela, anyway, and that was because she flat out asked me. I wondered how Edward would feel about sitting in our tiny kitchen, eating in silence, and avoiding Charlie's eyes. Actually, when compared to the absolute circus that was dinner at the Cullens' house, he might actually prefer it.

After dinner, I scrubbed the dishes quickly and escaped to my room, leaving Charlie alone with his beloved Sonics. The computer chugged and wheezed in the corner, and I prayed it would live long enough for me to type a quick goodnight email to Edward. He had never said it aloud, but somehow I knew he counted on my nightly missives.

_Edward,_

_So dinner was a quiet affair. Charlie may have grunted somewhere between the loaded potato and the dish of ice cream, but other than that the house only hears the sound of the basketball bouncing and the sneakers on the floor. I imagine this would be Heaven for you._

_I was thinking about what you wrote today at lunch, about how night is the worst time for you. I wondered... Maybe it's forward of me, but perhaps it will help. As you close your eyes tonight, I want you to imagine that you're in a meadow full of flowers. Preferably yellow ones, because they're bright and cheerful. Keep that image in your mind. There's a soft blanket beneath you, and the sun kisses your face (I know, I know! Use your imagination!) And I'm there with you, ready to fight off the demons before they can reach you._

_Keep that in your mind as you go to sleep, Edward. I will fight the demons for you, always. _

_Yours, Bella_

I stared at my closer, wondering if it was too much. Maybe he didn't want me to be his. Maybe he felt sorry for me and let me hang around his family so I wouldn't have to be alone. Maybe... I took a deep breath and clicked the send button before I could come up with any more maybes. The clock read 9:30, and I knew he would receive it well before he would be laying down for bed, but I still couldn't help but hope that my words could help him.

I had only known Edward and his family for three months, but they already felt like my own. I couldn't put my finger on the root of my overwhelming feelings for him; all I knew was that I loved him, wholly and unconditionally. Perhaps three months seemed too short to have developed such devastating emotions, but they were there nonetheless. I could feel his presence, even when I couldn't see him. If I stood at my locker, digging through books for a spare pencil, buried inside up to my shoulders, I still knew the moment he rounded the corner. A fine chill would break out over my skin, my breathing would hitch... Sometimes tears would prickle my eyes, and it was all before I even saw him. When I did finally lay eyes on him, my heart would leap in my chest and my stomach would drop to the floor.

Truly, how could someone so beautiful be so insecure? He should have had every girl in school drooling over him, but no one spared him a second glance. If they did, it was just before hateful words crossed their lips. The likes of Jessica and Lauren didn't deserve his attentions, but they seemed to think they had been slighted in some way. To soothe their aching egos, they told horrible stories about him. This flawless boy was worth so much more, but he never complained.

I heard the chime letting me know there was a new message, and my heart skipped a beat. I never got tired of his words. With shaking hands, I grabbed the mouse and clicked on his name.

_Bella,_

_I don't know how you always know exactly what I need. I have a great family, and some wonderful friends, but no one knows me the way that you do. I wish that I could say out loud all the things that run through my head when I look at you. Writing it is nice, but you deserve to hear it. Thank you. For staying, even when I'm not able to give you anything in return._

_I hope you sleep well. I will be thinking of you._

_Edward_

The letter said everything, and yet it said nothing at all. These were all words that friends would say to each other, but could also be the words of a boy who really, _really _liked a girl. Was it possible at all that he could feel for me what I felt for him? I studied the words again, searching for any clue, but I was only left more frustrated. I did realize, though, that if he had taken the time to write me back, he was not even close to tired enough to go to bed. Just to be safe, I wrote him another quick email. I tried to put more of my own feelings in the letter, but I had problems putting my thoughts into words. As I read back over the letter, I realized that nothing I had said could be construed as more than friendly emotions and it frustrated me. How could I be upset with the boy who didn't speak for not telling me how he felt when the girl who wrote couldn't write how she felt?

* * *

_I've been through it before, a few years ago. We tried three and none of them worked. One of them even made me worse._

My eyes stung as I read his words. I knew he had talked with Carlisle about trying medicines to help with his anxiety, but I had no idea what he had been through or what he was about to go through. I couldn't imagine things being any worse for him.

_Whatever happens, I'm here._

I wanted to say more, but I could see by the look on his face that it was enough. We had to wait for the school year to end before he started his first round of medication. He was trying on his own to overcome his crippling shyness. Every day I would meet him at the doors of the school and he would walk with me to my first class. Alice would fill me in during French and Physics, telling me all the things that Edward never said aloud. She never let slip what Edward had meant by "worse," though. I could tell by the way she pursed her lips together that it was something horrible, and my own research into the disorder and medication brought up suicide ideation.

Just the thought of Edward contemplating suicide made my blood run cold and my heart squeeze with pain. This monster he was dealing with was so much bigger than he ever let on. It was obvious that he'd won that battle once, and I hoped he would be strong enough again. The only option I had, though, was to be there for him and let him know what he felt was beyond his control.

When Alice and I weren't talking about Edward, we were talking about the upcoming summer and how we would spend our free time. It didn't take long for the last day of school to arrive, and I was swept up into the Cullen version of summer idyll. Charlie was very lenient and allowed me to spend most of my time with Alice and Edward, as long as they reciprocated on occasion and had dinner at the house with him.

I'd never really seen Dad around other people. I knew he had, at some point in his life, figured out how to communicate or he would never have achieved such a high status in his career. Watching him fawn over Alice was the funniest and sweetest thing I had ever seen, though. If he frowned in her presence, she took it upon herself to see him smile again. If he dithered a bit over letting me out of the house, it only took her thirty seconds to secure permission. My father would do anything and everything Alice asked.

As for his relationship with Edward, I had never seen anything like it. How two people could have an entire conversation without ever speaking a word was entirely beyond me. I could have one-on-one conversation with either of them, but when stuck in the same room with them at the same time, I felt oddly off-kilter. Somehow, they understood each other in ways that I couldn't fathom.

* * *

"Bella!"

I heard his scream all the way from Alice's room. I didn't even think as my feet hit the ground and carried me to him. I scrambled across the bed, not caring that I'd never even touched the bedspread before. He was sobbing, murmuring my name, and I knew whatever he'd just dreamed had torn a hole in his soul.

"I'm here, Edward," I whispered.

He clung to me as I continued to soothe him with words, and I pulled him into my arms. I couldn't even thrill to the fact that he was in my embrace, because his tears were soaking my T-shirt. I had wished for this moment, but not under these circumstances. All I could do was talk him through it while I ran my fingers through his hair, shushing him into silence so he could sleep again. My poor Edward was hurting so much, and it broke my heart.

I stayed until I heard his light snores. As I disentangled myself from his heavy arms, I saw Alice dancing in the doorway. Her steps were not her usual light and carefree moves, but tense and perhaps even awkward. Her face was twisted with concern, and she looked like she wanted to say something. I put my finger to my lips and turned to watch her sleeping brother for another moment. He did not register my absence, so I shut the door silently and turned to her with a sheepish smile.

"Please don't think less of him," she begged, her dancing growing even more anxious.

"Alice," I choked. "I could never..."

"He's trying so hard, and he wants so much to be better for you..." she insisted.

"I don't... Alice, I love him." Color flooded my cheeks as I blurted my confession. Once the words started, I couldn't stop them. She dragged me down the hall on lighter feet as I continued to spout my adoration. "I think he's perfect. I know he's trying so hard, and I know that there will be even harder days before everything gets better, but I'm not going anywhere. Oh, God. I can't believe I just told you that about your brother."

"Keep going!" she sang. "I think he's beautiful, too, and we've all just been waiting on that one person who would see him the way we do."

"Well, I do. He's it for me, even if he never feels the same way."

"I think he does," Alice whispered, pulling me into her arms.

For the second time in one night, I found myself in a Cullen embrace and felt like I was home. I didn't want to address the words that had just given me such hope, so instead I just reveled in the feeling of having a sibling for the first time in my life.

* * *

After his first medicine didn't work, I knew it was time for me to talk to Carlisle. All the research in the world couldn't help me if I didn't know how it directly applied to Edward. I could see the shame in his eyes when I asked for his blessing to talk to his dad, and I wanted to reassure him. I could only say what I'd been saying all along.

"Don't be discouraged, Edward. And don't worry about me. I'll be here through it all."

Carlisle was able to really open my eyes to Edward's struggles. I knew the basics about General Anxiety Disorder, but it's so different for each person that suffers. For some, they might just get a shortness of breath and that's the extent of their anxiety attack. Others, like Edward, could experience a feeling of fainting or falling, pain in the chest, complete loss of breath, and a roaring in their head like a freight train. This, of course, was only during the attacks. Edward also suffered insomnia, only to have night terrors when he did sleep. The lack of rest made him achy and sore during the day. As for the psychological side of it, Edward thought about death constantly. When he was in class, writing a paper, most likely he was worried about how he might be in a car accident on the way home. Possibly, he would imagine getting a phone call that his parents had been killed. Carlisle even let slip that Edward's last night terror had been about me dying. I was absolutely horrified at what that beautiful boy had to go through.

Then, Carlisle explained to me that the medicines didn't always help. Because Edward's condition was caused by a chemical imbalance, the pills could actually make it worse. Many of them were unsafe for children, and this had been Edward's downfall in the past. Together, we hoped one of the medications would work this time, but I could see Carlisle was worried. While Edward looked and thought like a man, he was still not fully matured. The possible complications were endless. I was so grateful Carlisle was a doctor and could watch Edward constantly as he attempted each treatment.

After I left Carlisle's office, I found Edward on the couch. His eyes were so full of shame that I nearly ran to him. I could see his mouth working, trying to say words that would never come. Instead, he held out his hand and I took it. I never wanted him to doubt my love for him, even if I couldn't find the words.

The second medicine didn't work. He wasn't even on it for a week before Carlisle had stopped the treatment and begun a new one. I could tell something horrible had happened, but no one was talking. Alice would clam up immediately when I asked her, and it frustrated me terribly. I knew that it was a family thing, but I had just started feeling like a Cullen myself. Being left out hurt me in ways I couldn't describe.

His birthday came and went, but he was so groggy and out of sorts from lack of sleep that he didn't even acknowledge it. I wanted to push the issue, to make him open up to me, but he was having a hard enough time as it was. It was apparent that even the third medicine wasn't working. In fact, he seemed worse than he'd been without it. His muscle aches were so debilitating that it hindered his daily activity. Most of our time together was spent on the couch watching TV on mute. Loud noises startled him, and I noticed that he had developed a bit of an obsession with locking doors. When I asked him about it, he simply wrote _Don't want anyone getting in._

Finally, after two weeks of suffering, he was forced to admit that the medicine wasn't working. The heartbreak was written plainly on his face. It was the last one that Carlisle would allow, and he would have to suffer withdrawal symptoms on top of his anxiety. I wanted to crawl into his arms and hold him for the rest of his life. I traced the dark circles under his eyes and ran my fingers through his hair to soothe him. I had to let him know that to stumble was not to fall.

"I just don't know anymore, Bella," he cried. "I don't know if it will ever go away. I don't want to live like this for the rest of my life!"

I couldn't believe that he'd just said so many words at once. Suddenly, I was filled with such pride for him. The despair that had been building was completely destroyed by his words. "That's the most you've ever said to me at one time, and louder than you've ever spoken. I like your voice. It's just as beautiful as you are."

My words sank in, and his face became bright like the sun. Perhaps he saw, as I did, that there was so much hope for him. He had lost the battle, but the war was far from over. He was searching for words, and I pressed the paper and pencil back into his hands. He had already stepped out of his comfort zone, and I couldn't push him anymore.

He waved them away, though, and continued to look directly into my eyes. I could feel my bones melting under the intensity of his gaze, but I couldn't look away. He turned on the couch, facing me head-on and lifted a shaking hand to brush my cheek. I felt a blazing trail in the wake of his touch, and leaned into him unconsciously. Then, he spoke, and the sound was more beautiful than ever before.

"Bella, you're beautiful."


	3. Scared

It was a little weird watching Charlie around Alice. I'm pretty sure she reminded him of Mom, because he would watch her intently and agree to everything she said. I'd never seen him laugh so much as he did that summer when she and Edward were always over for dinner. It was amazing to see my dad open up over lasagna and garlic rolls, and then to watch Edward nearly mirror my dad's responsiveness. They almost seemed to feed off each other. Having another quiet male around must have afforded them each a bit of comfort. Or, perhaps, they were comfortable enough to sit back and let Alice dominate everything.

And dominate, she did. I had never been shopping so much in my life as I did that summer. Alice wasn't a twit that had nothing better to do than spend time at the mall, but I'd have been hard pressed to convince anyone otherwise. In her defense, and she did deserve it, she made me feel beautiful and special for the first time in my life. Her gasps of pleasure at seeing me in a dress she had chosen or her shrieks of joy over a pair of boots she discovered made it all worthwhile.

What really made the summer the very best three months of my life were the quiet evenings that Edward and I spent together on a blanket watching the darkening sky. Sometimes, if I felt brave enough, I would take his hand and hold it in mine. It seemed such an innocuous thing to do, but tingles would surge up and down my arm for hours after he left me on the front porch for the night.

I hated that summer was ending, but the excitement of senior year in a school where I actually had friends was almost too much to bear. My sleepovers at the Cullen house would draw to a close for a while, as Charlie put his foot down and tried to be a "good father" at the beginning of the school year. I hated to think what this would do for Edward's thin veneer of calm. He had nightmares almost nightly, and I shuddered to think how they might increase if I wasn't there to hold him when he came awake screaming.

On the first day of school, I could feel the tension radiating off him like it was heat and he the sun. So many things would be different this year. Most notably, Emmett and Rosalie weren't in any of our classes or at the lunch table. Their conspicuous absence and lack of protection seemed to be what bothered Edward the most. Alice let something slip when we were in the bathroom, though, and a whole new fear washed through me.

Edward wanted to go to Juilliard. She was angry with herself for blabbing, but I was pleased to have the inside knowledge. I didn't know what I could do about it, though. He had the drive and the talent necessary for a successful audition, but I knew without a doubt that he didn't have the faith in himself. Beyond that, I had only applied to the University of Washington, believing Edward would never travel further than that from home.

Above anything else, I knew he would want to be the one that broke the news to me. Alice's mortification over telling me first was certainly founded. If he knew he'd been the subject of discussion, it would set off a whole new reason for his anxiety. I knew he'd share with me when he was ready, but biting my tongue through our World Lit class was one of the hardest things I'd ever done. I wanted to take his hand, tell him that he was the only person I'd ever known in my short life that had the ability to pass a Juilliard audition, and that he had no reason to be scared. Scratch that. I wanted to crawl into his lap, wrap my arms around him, and kiss every last inch of his face. As it was, I settled for a smile and a quick note.

_How's the first day of school going?_

His lips twitched as he read my words, and I tried to imagine what sarcastic lines were floating around in his head. He turned to me, his eyes serious, and I gasped at the emotion there.

_With you next to me, this is the best first day of school I've ever had._

I literally swooned when I read his words. My heart stopped beating, and I had to remind myself to breathe again. When he said such beautiful things, it was easy to imagine he felt the same for me as I did for him. I didn't want him to be anything but what he already was, but I also knew that what he was didn't allow for a relationship. I was willing to stand beside him, in whatever capacity, for as long as he would have me. Was it so wrong to want to kiss him senseless, though?

Lunchtime on that first day was an interesting affair. When we approached the table, I could see that he was trying very hard not to stare at Rose and Emmett's empty chairs, but his breathing was labored. Before he could even recover from the first blow, Angela and Ben approached us. I wanted to grab Edward and take him somewhere far away, where he would never have to deal with another change again. How could he grow, though? When would he ever learn to deal with his anxiety and shyness if everyone continued to shelter him?

As it turned out, our fears were completely unfounded. He was happy to have Ben and Angela at the table, and seeing the seats occupied filled a special place in all of us. As I observed Edward, I could see the immense changes he'd made over the last several months. Perhaps taking in the changes a day at a time made them virtually unnoticeable, but I remembered the quiet boy with hopelessness painted across his features. That boy was nearly gone, and in his place was a vibrant life, full of quiet optimism—quiet being the operative word. He was involved in conversation at the table, even while still silent.

As the weeks passed, he became even more animated. His notes to me were full of humor and sarcasm, and I was thrilled to see that he was growing more comfortable with me. He never approached the topic of Juilliard, and I never let slip that I knew. It was something we would eventually need to address, but at that time I was just happy enough being a high school senior without a care in the world. Angela, bless her heart, almost destroyed it.

"I sent off the last of my applications today," she announced. Ben reached over and squeezed her hand. I had a feeling they would be attending whatever college accepted the both of them. I had already put in several applications myself, but I didn't really want to talk about them just yet. When Angela asked me, I could only shrug and give a weak answer.

That was when Alice cracked. I had actually expected it much sooner. Six weeks of biting her tongue just turned out to be too much for the poor girl though, and she blurted Edward's intent to audition. Edward went white as a sheet, and I'm ashamed to say that it made his jade eyes even more beautiful. Those eyes searched mine, and I could see his shame. Shame, perhaps, for having kept the news from me. Maybe he was afraid that he just wouldn't be good enough.

"You'd be brilliant," I whispered, wanting to reassure him; to let him know that he was entitled to his secrets and that he _was _good enough. The look in his eyes, the pure trust and admiration, brought me to my knees. "You will, Edward. You'll be amazing."

Every other conversation had ceased, and everyone was watching our interaction. Jasper and Alice were nodding with pride, while Angela and Ben looked concerned and amused at the same time. I wondered if Edward had any idea how very much he was loved?

* * *

I'd grown accustomed to my dinners with the Cullen family. Emmett always tried his hardest to embarrass Edward or me...or both of us. Rosalie always smacked the back of his head in an attempt to coerce and apology for Edward or me...or both of us. Alice would try to drag me off to her room for a little one on one girl time, which always included Jasper for some reason. Carlisle and I would have a brief conversation about the improvements in Edward's interactions at school, which would leave me with a small sense of guilt about discussing Edward behind his back. Esme would shoo me out of the kitchen when I tried to help with cleanup. Inevitably, everyone would fade into the background, and Edward would take me to the piano to play for me.

That particular night was much the same as any other night. Emmett tried to make a dig at Edward about our relationship, or lack thereof. Alice and Jasper disappeared without comment, probably knowing Edward and I would try to talk about Juilliard. Esme allowed me as far as the sink with a pile of dishes before pushing me out the door, and Carlisle sent me an affectionate wink as he closed himself into his office.

Edward stood in the hallway, watching me intently. I took a moment to study his face and was struck once more by the dark circles under his eyes. He was so painfully beautiful, but he looked nearly dead on his feet. My heart squeezed as he reached out a tentative hand and wound his fingers through mine. I wanted to reach up with my free hand and trace the purple bruises and frown lines, but he was already pulling me toward the stairs.

When I realized where he was going, I couldn't help but quicken my pace. By the time we reached the piano, I was dragging him behind me could hear his quiet laughter. There was nothing in the world more beautiful to me than his laughter, so I hammed it up a bit for his benefit. I stumbled over myself to get to the stool and plopped down with my usual lack of grace. When I turned my eyes to his, I knew they probably showed every last bit of my adoration for him but I just couldn't hide it anymore. I loved him more than anything and had no idea what to do about it. At that moment, I could only sit and let him share with me the only way he knew how.

And it was incredible. I had no musical training of any kind, but I could tell there was something different in his music that night. There had always been a sadness, a heaviness, to his performances. Even if he played a quick waltz, there was always an overtone of darkness that infiltrated every note. That night, though, he played with confidence I had never seen. There was a small smile tipping his lips as his fingers danced over the keys; his back was straight, and his arms looked powerful. After seeing his drooping form just moments before, the change in him was staggering.

Beyond that, though... Beyond the physical appearance of him as he played, the music was on a whole new level. I could _feel _each note he played and the care and devotion behind them. Whatever inspired the song was obviously something he loved very much, for he gave every line and every measure the utmost consideration. The introduction to the song sounded unsure but fell quickly into powerful, sweeping phrases that carried me along easily and left me breathless by the end.

I loved him more than ever.

"Jesus, Edward," were the only words that I could form. With all the effort of biting back my declarations of undying devotion, I could only manage those two words. For someone who someday hoped to make a living using her words, I was doing a shit job of it.

He turned those devastating eyes on me, and I felt every bone in my body melt. My tongue melded itself to the roof of my mouth, and suddenly it didn't matter how many words I had in my head. Not one would be leaving my lips.

"Do you like it?" he asked, and I gasped. No notes. Words. Verbal words from my love. I had no choice but to force my lips to move.

"I have no words. You wrote it?" My hand acted of its own accord and twined my fingers through his. I studied those long fingers, amazed at my own forwardness. When he found the courage to answer me, I felt stomach drop.

"It's called _Safe. _It's for you," he whispered.

His eyes were searching mine, and I wanted to blurt it out. I wanted to just tell him that I loved him. I couldn't imagine the courage necessary for him to tell me those words. This was my best friend, my closest companion, and he was opening his heart to me. Suddenly, I was the scared one.

How had he done it? How had he gone from introverted, closed off behind a wall of his own making, to sharing his innermost thoughts with me? Was it possible that I had anything at all to do with his transformation?

"I hope that's how I make you feel, Edward. You can be yourself with me, always. And when you're ready to leap, I'll catch your fall."

I wanted to clap my hand over my mouth. My openness shocked me, but it was worth it to see the emotion cloud his eyes. Again, I prayed for the strength to just tell him. _I'm yours, Edward. Only yours, and forever yours._

The moment passed, and I was left only with the despair my cowardice had given me. How could this boy be so very brave? How could he overcome such insurmountable obstacles and open his heart to me through his music, and I could only sit blinded by his inhuman beauty? How could I continue to help him find strength, when I was so very scared myself?


	4. Stronger

I watched the back of my dad's head with affection. He was, at that moment, thoroughly involved in another Sonics game and completely unaware of his surroundings. I had hated leaving Edward that evening, especially since he'd started his new medication just days before. Charlie only occasionally felt the need to put his foot down and be a responsible father, so I tried to comply without complaint when that happened.

I wanted more than anything to be there as Edward slept, though. The medicine hadn't shown any signs of working yet, and his nightmares had still been nightly occurrences. He always managed to slip back into a dreamless sleep when I crawled into bed with him to stroke his hair and whisper comforts to him. I would have started each night there beside him, but I was never invited. I could offer my support and love without being asked, of course, but only when there seemed to be no other choice. Otherwise, I felt as though I was forcing something unwelcome upon him.

I was sure Edward didn't mean for me to feel that way. I knew he was grateful for my friendship and unending patience, but he still had his pride and independence. I would never stoop to take that from him, and so I was left to come running at his screams instead of standing beside him to ward them off before they started.

I was awake later than usual, as I had lingered at the Cullens' house for as long as possible. I hated the thought of Edward having to stare at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim him, so I stretched my time with him as long as I dared. As I sat at the kitchen table, I debated sending him an email, just in case he suffered another sleepless night. Would it show a lack of faith in him to do so? I couldn't be sure. All I knew was that it would assuage my fears of leaving him without a lifeline, so I hastened up the steps to my tiny bedroom and fired up my ancient laptop.

_Edward,_

_More than anything, I pray that you're sleeping right now and won't read this until morning. I needed to write, though, to make sure you knew that I'm still here thinking about you._

_My world would not be the same without you. I can't even remember a time before I knew you. I wish I had the courage to say these words aloud, Edward, because I love you more than I can_

I stared at the words that my fingers had typed without my brain's permission. It was true, of course, but I could never go there with Edward. Not yet, while he still had so much to process in his own life. I hit the delete button feverishly and began my second paragraph again.

_Holding you in my arms as you seek sleep is the most beautiful feeling in the world._

Again, I stopped and my breath caught. My feelings were entirely too close to the surface; my nerves were raw and emotions fragile. With a sigh, I deleted again. Perhaps sending this email was not the best idea, for the only words I could give him spoke of my love. I read over the first paragraph, decided it was innocuous enough, signed my name, and clicked send.

I then proceeded to stare at my own ceiling as images crashed through my brain. Edward smiling, Edward holding me close, Edward kissing me until I lost my breath. He had become my world, and I still couldn't be sure if he felt the same for me.

* * *

The first day back to school after the holiday break was always bittersweet for me. I hated to leave the merriment and excitement behind and return to the drudgery of schoolwork and the dreaded gym class. On the other hand, Edward was there. That made it all worthwhile, even with the distinct possibility that I might take a volleyball or basketball to the head at some point during the day.

He was waiting by the door when I arrived, and I could see by his posture that something was weighing on his mind. His face looked smooth and relaxed, so I wasn't immediately concerned. I knew he would tell me when he was ready, and I could wait forever for that trust if need be.

When he saw me, his face broke into the most breathtaking smile I had ever seen. I felt my knees go wobbly and struggled to stay upright long enough to latch onto his arm, but it was quite a battle. Even on my best days, I was likely to kiss the pavement, but walking with no knees made the task damn near impossible. My own lips responded in kind, though, without my permission. I appeared lovesick to anyone that cared to look, but I had no control of myself. There was a sparkle in his eyes and a spring in his step that I hadn't ever seen before, and the difference in his demeanor had me nearly giddy.

I wondered for a moment if this was a sign that the medicine was beginning to work. I knew he would tell me if it did, but perhaps the change would be so gradual that even he wouldn't be aware of the effects.

"Where's Alice?" I kicked myself that my first words to him were about his sister.

He grinned and shrugged. Chances were good that I wouldn't see her until lunch if I didn't get to see her first thing in the morning. He opened the door to the classroom for me and ushered me to my seat, his hand ghosting over the small of my back. A thrill crawled up my spine as warmth radiated throughout my body from that tiny brush of his fingers.

I busied myself with my backpack, pulling my World Civilizations text from my bag, and tried to hide my flaming cheeks with a curtain of my hair. I wondered if he had any clue what he did to me without even saying a word. I opened the book and pretended to read about the golden age of Egypt's Middle Kingdom, but the Fourth Dynasty just couldn't grab my attention. I gave up on trying to make out the words just as a folded note landed in the crease of my book.

My eyes darted toward Edward, though I knew he was the one who tossed me the paper. He was grinning, his eyes flashing with some sort of unnamed joy, and I felt my heart squeeze painfully. I carefully opened the folded sheet, as my eyes remained locked on his.

_Bella_

_I had the most amazing dream last night. I fell asleep just after you left, and I slept for nine straight hours. I haven't slept that long... well, ever. We're pretty sure it worked. Dad wants to keep an eye on it for a while, but I feel amazing._

_I just wanted you to be the first to know. You're my rock, my foundation, and I couldn't have made it this far without you._

_Love,_

_Edward_

My heart stuttered as I read his closing line three times before lifting my gaze back to his. A grin stretched across my face, and I knew I probably looked silly. I was so unbelievably happy that I didn't care. I snatched the pen out of his grip, delighting in his low chuckle, and scribbled a quick congratulations. I wasn't even sure of what I was writing, but a quick scan let me know that I had not managed to embarrass myself with declarations of my undying love, so I tossed the note back to him.

I wanted to shout with joy. There were waves upon waves of calm and ease rolling off of him, especially as compared to his usual demeanor. I had never seen him so relaxed and attentive. There was a sharpness in his gaze, and I felt foolish for not having seen it sooner.

The only thing that made his victory sweeter to me was seeing the reaction of his friends. Seeing Angela and Ben express their elation warmed me to the very tips of my toes. He was so gentle, so kind, and so loved that I was proud just to say that I knew him. To call him friend was a blessing above any other that I could possibly imagine, save for one. I hoped some day I could call him mine.

Later that evening, I sat in my room waiting for Edward to arrive for dinner with Charlie and me. A stack of papers sat in front of me, all carrying good news, but there was one that meant more to me than the others. I had no idea if it was even necessary, for he hadn't yet made his intention to audition clear. Just in case, though, I had sent off an application and my portfolio to NYU. My acceptance letter sat in pride of place on top of all the other acceptance letters I had received. To cover my bases, I had also applied to the University of Washington, Berkeley, and the University of Arizona. I had not yet told my mother that I might be attending college in Arizona because my greatest desire lay in the letter on the top of the stack.

I wished, more than anything, that Edward would find the courage to follow his dreams to Juilliard. His talent was beyond anything I had ever heard, and he deserved the chance to explore all of his possibilities. I didn't want to push him, though. The decision lay in his hands, and for that reason I would not share my news with him until I was sure of his intentions.

I heard his car pull into the drive and flew down the steps. Charlie muffled a chuckle beneath his hand as I skidded through the kitchen and came to stuttering halt at the front door. I had the door open before Edward could even lift his hand to knock, and the whoosh of air that left my lungs left me a bit lightheaded. His eyebrows were raised in surprise, but his expression quickly melted into a smile. I answered with my own grin and stepped back to let him in.

He followed me to the kitchen and sat quietly as I removed the pot roast from the stove and transferred it to a serving dish. When I stretched to reach for the glasses on the top shelf, I heard his chair scrape back. Just a moment later, he was pressed against me, reaching over me for the glasses, leaving me breathless and trembling. I wondered if he had any idea what he had just done to me, but when I turned to face him, he was already back in his chair. His face was calm and his eyes watched me with innocent interest.

In that moment, I concluded that perhaps his feelings did not match mine, and the despair was nearly crippling. I hovered over the mashed potatoes, willing myself to pull it together. I could never let him know that his lack of romantic interest hurt me, because I knew that he did love me, and it would kill him to know that he had caused me pain. I just wished, with all of my heart, that the love he felt for me matched what I felt for him.

* * *

Listening to him play after that was harder than I thought possible. I was thrilled to hear the changes in his music. There was new hope that had never before been present. Even the nocturnes and requiems seemed to hold a deeper meaning to him, as someone who had faced the fear of night and death and came triumphant to the other side. I wanted to give him my words, my encouragement, but I didn't know how without the depths of my emotion spilling over. I was full with it, this love for him—completely full to the brim, and still more love was created every day. I had no idea what to do with it, the adoration and respect, for the truth of my devotion would scare him.

I, instead, lurked behind the safety of my pen, writing missives that only touched on those feelings but veered more toward encouraging. After a particularly honest note regarding the new emotion in his music, his eyes filled with intensity and burned into mine.

"I'm going to do it," he said, his emerald depths flashing with determination. "I'm going to audition, and I need you to come with me."

Oh, if only he needed me. After watching him battle his demons for over a year, I knew there was nothing I could do for him that he couldn't manage on his own. The possibility that my presence meant that much to him warmed me thoroughly, and my mind skittered back to the letter on my desk.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, his eyes searching mine for answers I wasn't ready to give.

"I'm thinking that..."

What was I thinking? I was thinking that I adored him. I was thinking that he was the most amazing person I could ever hope to know. I was thinking that if he was accepted to Juilliard and left me in Washington my heart would never recover. He was waiting, and none of those answers could be spoken aloud.

"You can do this, Edward, and you don't need me. But if you want me there, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Carlisle called my dad not too long after that to ask permission for me to join the family in New York in March. Charlie huffed a bit into his mustache and told him he'd talk to me about it.

"Is this something you want to do, Bells?" he asked, a smile tipping his lips. He knew my answer, and I was a little pissed that he was going to make me say it out loud.

"You know I do, Dad," I said, rolling my eyes with a grin.

"You don't think that I'm clueless about that NYU acceptance, do you?" His lips quirked again as my eyes cut quickly to his. Heat flooded my cheeks and I dropped my gaze.

"I don't even know if I'm going," I said quietly. "He—I mean, I might just stay here."

"You're young, Bella, but I know you're aware of this. I also know that you've got a better, brighter head on your shoulders than just about any other kid your age. The only person I've met with the same amount of intelligence and potential is your Edward. I'm not blind, girl. I see how you look at him, and I know how you feel. I can see how he feels about you, and I'm not stupid enough to believe that it's a childish crush."

"He doesn't—" I started, blushing even more furiously, if that was even possible.

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just the silly dad with his head in the sand," Charlie said, his smile finally breaking.

I considered his words and wondered if he might be right. I didn't know if I could afford to put such faith in his words, but I was willing to consider it.

"I know it's possible to find your life's love at your age," he continued wistfully. "I would never hold you back."

Tears filled my eyes at his almost admission. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was thinking about my mother. It was possible, however, that I was the Charlie in this scenario, and Edward would never truly reciprocate.

"He does," Charlie said, in answer to my silent question. "At least look at NYU while you're there. Make sure it's what _you _want."

I stumbled forward and threw my arms around him, giggling a bit at my forwardness when he stiffened in my arms. I was about to pull away when he folded me back into his embrace and hugged me for the first time in my memory.

Edward's rehearsals became the focus of our days. I was there with him as often as I could be, and he never failed to ask my opinion even though was clueless about music. All I knew was that listening to him play made me feel like I could conquer the world.

* * *

We had developed a new type of camaraderie since the medicine had taken effect. We still wrote most of our communication, but there was a teasing banter that had never before existed. He spoke aloud often at home, mostly to berate his brother whenever Emmett was over for dinner. It made my heart so light to see him that carefree, and I knew that things were just going to continue to get better for him.

Alice pulled me aside one night with a sly grin. "Did you ever fill out that application I saw you carrying around?"

"Alice Cullen!" I exclaimed. "Did you go through my things?"

She didn't even bother to look ashamed as she stared me down, waiting for my answer. I stared back for a moment, but eventually cracked into a grin.

"I did. I was accepted." She squealed and threw her tiny arms around my neck.

"Me too!" she laughed. "And Jasper is going to Columbia! He got into the Poli Sci program there. We'll all be there!"

"Alice," I said, suddenly serious. "I can't just follow him blindly. I have to know he wants me there. You understand, don't you?"

"He does!" she cried, then clapped a hand over her mouth. "He really does," she whispered again. Her eyes darted back and forth, as though she was afraid she'd be caught spilling secrets.

"So everyone keeps telling me," I said. "Everyone but him. And I'm sorry, but that's just not enough. NYU has a great writing program, but there's a lot for me here, too, if Edward doesn't want me."

She eyed me sadly and slipped from the room just as Edward entered. He looked a bit haggard, and I hadn't seen him so tired in a while. He sat down at the piano and played through a few pieces before turning to me with a sigh. I offered him a small smile, and he offered me a note asking if we could escape. I was all too happy to comply.

I took him to my favorite spot, overlooking the lake, and climbed up onto a boulder. He joined me, and I laid my head against his shoulder. I could feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

"Are you afraid?" I asked, and he didn't answer. I realized my mistake quickly and apologized for not bringing the notebook so we could "talk."

"It's okay. I'm not afraid of talking to you anymore."

My heart soared at his words, but I continued to press for an answer. I knew he was nervous about the audition; any fool would be. I had a suspicion that his fears went deeper, though. Change had often caused him alarm. The idea of moving across the country, no matter how prestigious the school, had to have him tied up in knots.

"Alice told me she applied to NYU. And Jasper was accepted to Columbia's Political Science program. You won't be alone," I assured him. _But he might be without me_, I finished in my head.

"I know," he said, and I could almost hear him finish the same sentence in his own mind. Almost.

Whatever happened, wherever he decided to go, I couldn't possibly be prouder of him, and I told him as much. "You're one of the strongest, most fearless people I've ever met, and I'm happy just to say that I know you."

Tears spilled over onto his cheeks, and I wanted to kiss them away. Instead, I pulled him close and let him know that it was okay to cry. He sobbed into my shoulder, and I mouthed words of love into his hair.


	5. Soar

Alice chattered in my ear throughout the entire flight about how I would love New York, how the sheer number of people would overwhelm me, how the stores were amazing and oh-so-posh, but there was absolutely nothing that could prepare me for my first glimpse of the city. We landed at Newark Airport, and I was able to see a bit of the impressive skyline from my aisle seat. New Jersey, in fact, looked to be just as impressive and populated as New York. I knew that my eyes were probably too wide for my face, and Emmett's snickers let me know that I looked every bit the tourist that I was.

The train from the airport into the city dropped us three stories _underneath _Madison Square Garden, but I could feel the energy pulsing above me. Not for the first time, my gaze went to the silent boy by my side. He had been to the city before, of course, but his experience did nothing to temper his anxiety. On top of millions of strangers, he also had to deal with the most important audition of his life. My heart went out to him, but then stopped completely as the escalator deposited us directly on the sidewalk on Seventh Avenue.

It was almost midnight, and yet the number of people I saw could easily have populated our tiny city of Forks. I didn't have time to catch a breath before Esme took one of my hands and Edward took the other. They led me through the pressing crowds of people to a waiting taxi. Carlisle pushed Emmett forward to ride with us, and stayed back for the next taxi with Alice, Rosalie, and Jasper. As we pulled away from the curb, my eyes caught Alice's, and she waved merrily. I wanted to wave back, to smile like everything was okay, but I was aware that I probably looked like a cartoon puppy dog with my fearful eyes and nearly quivering chin.

The buildings towered over us like menacing giants, the gleaming windows appeared to be evil eyes watching our journey to what Esme called the "Upper West Side, please." The driver made conversation with Emmett in the front seat, and found out that it was my first trip to the big, bad city. He asked Esme if it was okay to drive up Broadway and my ears perked up just a bit. Edward's thumb gently caressed my palm, and I knew he'd seen my momentary excitement. I turned and offered a small smile, letting him know that I was okay. I was scared to death, but okay.

Our detour onto Broadway dumped us into the middle of a lot of traffic. I gaped at the cars, most of which were yellow cabs just like the one I occupied, but only for a moment. The flashing lights of Times Square stole my attention completely, and I rolled down the window to get a better look. And just like that, I fell in love. This thrumming, smelly, fashionable, glittering, rude, crowded, cultured, and terrifying city was my new home.

Our hotel was, without a doubt, the fanciest place I had ever seen outside of the Cullen house. The décor was even similar, with the clean lines, crisp whites, and rich browns. Because of our tourist detour, the other taxi had arrived before us, so Alice was bouncing by the elevator while Rosalie examined her nails with a bored expression. I was effectively separated from Edward as the girls linked their arms through mine and dragged me onto the elevator. I turned in time to see his face, the expression a mixture of sadness and amusement, and I promised him "later" with my lips. The sadness dispersed.

I suffered through Alice's excitement and Rosalie's good humor with as much patience as I could muster. The next day was Edward's audition, however, and I wanted nothing more than to run to his side and talk him down from the ledge on which I was sure he stood. Plans for an early morning shopping trip, a brief walk through the park, and lunch were made before Alice let me slip through her clutches. Both girls wore identical amused expressions as I tripped across the carpet in my haste to get to the door.

I froze on the threshold, startling into movement only when the door closed on my heels. Edward was pacing the hallway, pulling at his hair and muttering under his breath. At the sound of the door, he looked up and met my gaze.

"I was trying to decide if I should knock or just wait." His vulnerability pulled at my heart, and I moved to his side.

He curled his fingers through mine immediately, and we both heaved a sigh of contentment. My newfound love for this city did not temper my fear any more than his sincere desire to attend Juilliard banished his anxiety.

I wanted to tell him about my letter—the letter I had carefully tucked into my suitcase. Not knowing if he wanted me here with him was driving me crazy, and I knew all I had to do was ask. I just... I just felt he had enough to worry about, and adding one more concern to his ever-growing list would not be fair of me. Instead, I followed him silently as he led me to the bank of elevators.

The doors opened to a glass lobby, and I gasped as I realized we were on the roof. A garden spread out before us, lit by twinkling fairy lights, and I allowed him to pull me forward. Together we sat, high above the traffic and the noise. In one direction I could see Lincoln Center, and in the other, Central Park. Somehow, the knowledge that this incredible collection of trees, lakes, birds, statues, picnic tables, and soccer pitches could survive amongst the craziness of the city gave me hope that perhaps so could I.

"I probably don't need to tell you that I'm going crazy here," Edward murmured.

I stroked his fingers gently with my thumb. I was going crazy myself, but for a different set of reasons. I resolved to get him through his audition the next day, and then I would tell him about NYU. If he wanted me with him, then I would be there. If he didn't... Well, New York was a huge city, and I could see now that I could survive here on my own and never even have to see him. It would hurt. Oh, God it would hurt! I could give Edward the room he needed to spread his wings, and maybe, even without me, he would soar.

We spent the rest of our time together in silence. I didn't need to speak for him to know that I was there, with him and fully supportive. Occasionally, I could feel his fingers dance over my skin and knew he was practicing his chosen piece in his head. The sensations sent shivers up my spine, but I squelched it with effort. The night wasn't about me, or my uncontrollable feelings for Edward; it was about supporting him during his most terrifying hour.

My love for him threatened to spill over at any moment. As I studied his serious face, sad eyes, and riotous hair, I wanted nothing more than to pull him into my embrace and confess the very depths of my devotion. Instead, I gave his hand a tiny squeeze and said, "You should sleep."

His quiet sigh said that he agreed with me, so we stood in silence and he led me back to my room.

* * *

Of the many things I considered priorities during my visit to New York, shopping fell absolutely, one hundred percent, dead _last. _Alice, however, convinced me with knowing eyes that I needed something stunning to wear to the audition. Rosalie, with shining eyes and uncharacteristic excitement, talked me into visiting a salon with them after we found the "perfect" blue sweater. Apparently, though he never would have said so to me, Edward thought I looked lovely in blue.

And so, it was with great trepidation that I stood outside the audition hall in my tighter-than-usual turtleneck and my fluffier-than-usual hair, listening to the strains of Edward's music through the door. He'd been torn about the piece he'd chosen and had sent Emmett and Alice away with shaking hands because their praise was too effusive and their excitement too nerve-wracking. They meant well, and we all knew that, but silence was where Edward found his courage.

As I listened to the fiery chords, I knew he'd never played better. I didn't have a clue when it came to music, but I did know how it made me feel. And somehow, Edward's notes, drifting through the solid oak, wrapped me in warmth and passion. I felt almost as if he was playing to me alone, and if I listened hard enough there would be a message for me.

Most of me believed I was hearing my own love for him in those notes—that he felt my adoration, and it strengthened him. There was a tiny fragment of me that prayed, however, that his love for me was the true message. Warmth flooded me and tears prickled my eyes as I realized that I could never be prouder of him than I was at that moment. Whatever came after would be a direct result of the bravery and dedication that had brought him here to face his fears and his feelings of inadequacy.

If Edward could throw off eighteen years of anxiety to speak to me—if he could swallow his abject terror of meeting new people and put his entire future into the hands of three strangers—then surely I could find the courage to tell him how very deeply I cared. I absolved that I _would _tell him, as the glow of his victory lit his face. I would find my own determination, show him my letter of acceptance, and tell him that I never wanted to be without him.

I could feel the eyes of his parents on me as I nodded in satisfaction. The music drifting through the wood had changed, and the lilting melody wrapped me in comfort and strengthened my conviction. Whether he was playing my love for him, or his love for me... well, I decided it didn't matter. The simple fact remained that there _was _love, respect, adoration, devotion, and that was more than enough.

Suddenly, there was silence and I felt my stomach clench. I strained to hear the murmurs coming from within the auditorium, but I couldn't make out a single word. Esme and Carlisle stepped forward, and Esme took one of my hands in hers.

"Bella, you beautiful girl," she whispered. "I can see it shining in your eyes. I don't know how you did it, but you reached him when no one else could. Don't be afraid to share in his victory, because it's yours, too."

I glanced at Carlisle to see if her assignment of glory offended him. Carlisle had been beside Edward through every step of the journey, had cried with him and held him when he had nightmares. How could she give me the credit?

"You loved him when you didn't have to. You looked past his shortcomings and encouraged him to overcome," Carlisle assured me. "The love of a parent is unconditional. Your understanding and support was something he never thought he'd find outside of his family. Of course this is a victory for you, as well. I know you'll feel the same pride we do when he comes through that door."

Edward appeared in that moment and, despite his parents' wishes that I greet him alongside them, I stepped back to let them have their moment. Carlisle was right, though. I thought my heart might burst as I took in his beaming face, and listened to his whispered conversation with his father. I twisted my hands in my hair as I remembered my resolution to confess...everything, and I waited for him to notice me.

As if he heard my heart's cry, he looked up and met my eyes with his own burning gaze. He gently untangled himself from Carlisle's embrace and was in front of me before I could take a breath. It was written all over me; I was sure my eyes were shouting my exaltation. He caressed my cheek, and I opened my mouth to speak. The words were there, but before I could voice them, his mouth was covering mine.

His glorious, matchless, velvet mouth stole every declaration, every intention, and I found myself lost with no hope of ever being found. I reached up and wound my fingers through his tousled hair, caressing the nape of his neck. I couldn't think, couldn't fathom for even a moment the courage it must have cost him to kiss me. All I could do was lose myself in his embrace as I felt my knees begin to give way.

I couldn't control the sigh that escaped me, and my cheeks begin to burn with both passion and embarrassment. I dimly heard Emmett's return, and nearly whimpered when Edward tore his lips from mine to face his brother. Alice had appeared beside us and had a mischievous smile on her face. She was speaking, I was pretty sure to Edward, but I heard nothing. Her mouth was moving, but I could only reach with a shaking hand and touch my tingling lips.

I still had no idea what was going on, but I did know that I could never again hide my feelings for him. My love was painted all over my face, and I would not cover it. He was looking at me, searching my eyes. Whatever he was seeking, he found it because he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine once more. This time, I whimpered. I could hear Emmett chuckling, but nothing could harm me as long as I was in the arms of my beautiful boy.

"I have something to show you," I said breathlessly as he pulled away.

Edward was leaning forward as if to kiss me again and, as much as I wanted that, I needed to tell him everything more. Alice and Emmett were watching curiously, and Rosalie and Jasper were headed in our direction. This did not warrant an audience, so I took his hand and led him down the hall and around the nearest corner. For once, Emmett and Alice respected our needed privacy and did not follow.

His eyes were full of questions, so I just pressed my acceptance letter into his hands. A small smile quirked his lips and I knew he thought I was passing him a note. My heart pounded in my chest as he dropped his eyes to the page, and leapt to my throat when his gaze snapped back to mine almost immediately. His eyes were wide and filled with... was that wonder?

"You'll be here, too?" His eyes were shining with unfettered joy, and I felt my heart burst.

"If that's okay with you?" I asked timidly, still afraid to believe that he might just love me, too. There was the distinct possibility that I would just be a security blanket for the rest of his life. I loved him so much that I would be whatever he needed me to be.

"Okay?" he choked. "Bella, I don't want to spend a minute without you. Ever."

The world seemed to stop in that moment. It wasn't what I had prayed to hear, but it was certainly closer than I had ever dreamed possible. Tears welled in my eyes, and I blinked them back with effort. I had to express my thoughts, to let him know that I _wanted _to be with him, but only if he wanted me there. "I don't either, Edward. I wasn't sure, though... You're doing so well, and I know you'll make wonderful friends here. I don't want to ever keep you from—"

My words were cut off by another fierce kiss, and I felt myself go boneless.

"You have never kept me from anything!" he whispered fiercely, and my eyes rolled back at the feel of his warm breath on my ear. "You are the one I wake up for every morning. You gave me the strength to beat the anxiety and the courage to pursue a dream. None of this would have happened without you."

At those words, I felt my self-control snap back into place. There was no way that I was going to allow him to belittle his own accomplishments. He had worked so hard to overcome his disorder, was still working every day.

"Edward, you give me too much credit. I believed in you, yes. But you learned to believe in yourself. You have no idea what you look like in my eyes, Edward. To overcome the panic attacks, to struggle against your shyness... You've got more courage than the rest of us combined. Knowing that you count me as one of your friends... well, it's the most amazing feeling in the world."

I watched as he processed my words, and his face fell. My heart couldn't take this workout, as it dropped at the sight of fresh sadness in his eyes. It stuttered and started again when he spoke.

"You are the best friend I have ever had, Bella. But you have to know that it's more than that. I am so in love with you that it hurts when you're not near me."

I felt as though I had no air left in my lungs. My head was swimming, and I wondered if I was in a lucid dream. Those words! The words I had prayed to hear. The very words that I had intended to say to _him. _And he spoke them so calmly, so earnestly, that I had no choice but to believe him. My Edward, my beautiful, shy, awkward, brilliant boy said that he loved me.

I gasped for breath so that I could declare my own feelings, but he was looking at anything but me. I could see that he regretted speaking, but he didn't try to take the words back so I knew that he truly meant them. He was scratching furiously at the back of his neck, dragging his fingers through his hair, and muttering softly to himself about erasers.

"Edward, look at me please!" I said.

There was no way that I would allow him to believe that he was alone in this. The moment his eyes met mine, I launched myself into his arms. I wanted to feel his lips on mine again, but I was too impatient for him to catch up, so I began pressing kisses to every inch of his face that I could reach.

"I love you, too!" I assured him, when I could find my voice. "So much, Edward! You have no idea."

"I love you, Bella," he told me again, and I knew I would never tire of hearing those words fall from his beautiful mouth. I had hoped to give my Edward the courage to fly, but it was I who was soaring.


End file.
